


stacking up (reach for the stars)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, brief mention/reference to anxiety attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10447566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Oikawa Tooru has always set his goals high.[A little song-fic (kind of) based on Heavy by Linkin Park ft. Kiiara]





	

**Author's Note:**

> the first time i heard this song, i thought "this is Oikawa Tooru's song" which kind of made me sad but inspired me all the same
> 
> i hope that you enjoy! (this is my first haikyuu fic so. im scared)

_I don’t like my mind right now_

_Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary_

_Wish that I could slow things down_

_I wanna let go but there’s comfort in the panic_

            Oikawa had always, always, set his goals high. When he was in pre-school at his daycare, he would spend the entire school day, obsessing over the smallest details of his blotchy finger-painting until it was _just right_ , so that he could show it off with a dazzling grin to his teacher before his mother came to pick him up.

            When he was in primary school, he’d spent his lunch break screwing up his face in concentration, trying to get his stroke of kanji _just right,_ so that his teacher could praise him after their exam and he could grin and blush and say _thank you, sensei!_

            His mother reminisced of the period of Oikawa’s life where he was learning to ride a bike, how he stayed out until dusk, and came home with scratched up knees, grinning and crying,” _Okaa-san, I did it! I can ride without training wheels!”_

            When he discovered volleyball, naturally, everyone was prepared for him to try and be the best. There was no one who expected less from him, and no one who had less than the utmost faith that he could accomplish that.

              Of course, he hadn’t discovered volleyball all by himself. He wouldn’t have even known what it was, if it weren’t for the boy his age, the new kid in his class, who had moved in, three houses down the street, who came up to him one day, asking for someone to toss to him.

            Oikawa hadn’t even _liked_ volleyball, at first. The ball kept moving wrong, and it kept falling onto his face and hurting his delicate nose, or he would hit it and it would sting the palm of his hands, mottling the pale skin pink and red and causing small callouses to form and burn every time his hands rubbed against the fabric.

            Plus, Iwaizumi would laugh at him every time he messed up, and that would get frustration to well up inside of his, and that made him want to scream. Still, he didn’t tell Iwa-chan that he wanted to quit, because, well, he _knew_ that he could do better. If Iwa-chan could be _so_ good, could spike the decent tosses with such power and accuracy, even for a seven year old, then he could climb up to his level.

            He didn’t have the same intensity that he developed in his later years, but he refused to back down when Iwa-chan asked him if he’d had enough, and demanded for Iwa-chan to throw him the ball.

            They had no volleyball club in their primary school, so their mothers enrolled them in a private class where they had a coach, and other children to practice with. There, Oikawa and Iwaizumi practically _shone_ , and they were quickly growing in synch with each other. Iwaizumi was the best spiker in the group, and when an envious teammate commented on how lucky Oikawa was to practice with him, he boasted, proudly, that yes, he was.

            Oikawa’s skills as a setter began to blossom, in that class, even when he wasn’t practicing with Iwa-chan, and the coach took his mother aside one day, after practice was over, and told her that her son had all the potential in the world.

            It was because of that, that the two of them applied to Kitagawa Daiichi- an inexpensive school, a powerhouse school that was sure to pull out their best game. It was the best school for volleyball, meant only for the best players- and Oikawa aspired to be the best.

            He became the best. He did what the best setters did- he brought out the strengths of his spikers, adjusted his tosses to them and calculated the opponent with a sharp mind and a flexibility that proved fatal to his adversaries. And of course, Iwaizumi had been there, solid and steady by his side, always there and ready to bring out _his_ top game.

            Oikawa was like a comet, glowing and hurtling his way to greatness. His own confidence, in himself and his team, was unshakeable, and his opponents, even the older students in various high schools, marveled at his tosses.

            All that came thundering down when they played against Shiratorizawa. The match had been fierce; it took all of Oikawa’s physical and mental capability to perform well, and he knew that the same applied for Iwa-chan. They lost, nevertheless ( _Obviously_ , his mind supplied, before he clenched his eyes and told his mind to shut up).

            The loss was upsetting, but Oikawa concluded that he had next year, he had time, the schools could meet again in a rematch and they would win. He would win. He couldn’t bear to lose, so he practiced, stayed after practice to practice some more, trained more intensely than anyone else on his team- and they practiced intensely.

            If someone else had been looking at the scene, they would be able to see that Oikawa was practicing far too intensely for a kid his age, and even his mother, who was used to his forceful obsession with perfection, tried to slide him hints that he should _rest_ , take it easier. It came to the point when Iwa-chan, so watchful and observant and caring, in the harshest way, would have to drag him out of the gym by the very collar of his jacket, just to get him to go home and eat.

            He told himself that it would be worth it, when he defeated Shiratorizawa, when he defeated that stoic ace Ushijima who couldn’t even muster up enough emotion to care about defeating Kitagawa Daiichi- that was how irrelevant Oikawa was to them.

            Except, they didn’t win. And they had the nerve to look Oikawa in the eye and say,” Good game.” He had become so angry, angry at Ushijima, angry at himself, angry at the world, to the point where he had almost screamed at Iwa-chan. Almost. He would have never forgiven himself if he actually had; Iwa-chan was upset enough, without Oikawa’s unnecessarily furious words.

            “Why…why can’t I seem to defeat them? Why aren’t I strong enough?” he cried, frustration and hopelessness lacing his words. He clutched the volleyball tighter, so hard that he was afraid that he might pop it, and tried not to curl in on himself.

            Iwa-chan just gave him a sideways look, that look, where he seemed to be making reassurances without saying very much. “We’ll defeat them next time. We can take Ushijuma down.”

            Oikawa believed in a lot, but he believed in Iwa-chan most of all, so he stayed determined.

_And I drive myself crazy_

_Thinking everything’s about me_

_Yea I drive myself crazy_

_Cause I can’t escape the gravity_

            The beginning of Oikawa’s third year at Kitagawa Daiichi brought in new first-years, bright eyed and eager to be a part of the team that had come so far. He was sure that some of them even thought that they could be the ones to lead the team to the nationals, which made Oikawa snort and made Iwaizumi glare at him.

            They were all rather clumsy, and Oikawa could tell that it would be months, at least, before they could be a cohesive part of the team. Certainly they couldn’t be molded into shape as quickly and effortlessly as he and Iwa-chan had.

            It didn’t mean that they didn’t have talent, though. One spiky haired first-year, called Kindaichi, was a strong spiker, even if he was a bit more hesitant than Oikawa was used to. (More hesitant than Iwa-chan, his mind judged, and he had to remind himself that not everyone could be as talented as his spiker.) Another quiet first year, by the name of Kunimi, was smart and skilled, but needed a little push, a little motivation, to reach his true potential. Oikawa was confident that he could help them reach that potential.

            And then there was Kageyama Tobio. Tobio was the only one who Oikawa _couldn’t_ bring out the best in, because Tobio was a setter. And a talented one, at that.

            It was a bit of a stretch to say that he was a good setter. A good setter, Oikawa knew, his coach told him repeatedly, was the control tower for the entire offense of the team. A good setter could adjust his tosses to each specific need of his spikers, in a quick and calculating way, without taking stupid risks.

            Tobio had none of that ability. He had an immense amount of talent, though, and that itself rubbed Oikawa the wrong way, when he saw Tobio toss for the first time. Oikawa knew enough about talent and setting to know that if Tobio was able to master the ball, and toss to his spikers the way that the spikers needed him to, then he’d be unstoppable.

            He seemed a bit dim off court, if Oikawa was being completely honest, and didn’t quite get along with his teammates, but he could calculate and toss his spikes with an almost perfect accuracy. Every time Oikawa heard the coach compliment him, his blood would run cold.

            On the days when Tobio was tossing particularly well, and Oikawa would narrow his eyes particularly angrily, Iwa-chan would give him his side-eyed look and flick his temple particularly hard. Oikawa liked to think of it as Iwa-chan’s way of reminding him that he was _there_.

            He couldn’t tell this to Iwa-chan, however much he wanted to. He couldn’t admit how fearful he was that this kid would be the one to replace him, because Iwa-chan couldn’t know how embarrassingly scared he was of being taken over by his _kouhai_. It was ridiculous, and Oikawa knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop fear from encasing his heart with its sharp talons.

            So he practiced. He endlessly practiced his tosses, knowing that they were skillful, but wanting to perfect them to a T. But it wasn’t enough- Oikawa knew that it wouldn’t be enough. He had to develop a new weapon.

            And he knew what that weapon would have to be. It was the one thing in volleyball that you perform by yourself- your chance to score a point without the opponent even having a chance to receive it.

            His serve. He could already serve pretty well, but it was simple, lacked the power or precision that he would need if he wanted to truly master it as a weapon. So he stayed after the rest of the team went home, nearly every day, practicing endless, _endless_ jump serves.

            He was determined not to let that Tobio surpass him. If Tobio surpassed him, he would go on to become the best setter in the prefecture, Oikawa was sure of that. If he became the best setter in the prefecture, everyone in Kitagawa Daiichi would want him to be the starting setter, would want to spike his tosses instead of Oikawa’s.  (He didn’t know what he would do if Iwa-chan would rather toss someone else’s spikes.)

            It was tiring, of course it was, there were days where his knee would twinge painfully after a hard landing, and he would just have to grit his teeth and continue. Surpassing Tobio would be worth some of the temporary pain.

            He got good at his jump serves, too. There were even a few practice matches in which he was able to land consecutive service aces. It made pride bubble up inside his chest, and he pretended not to see Iwa-chan’s eyes narrow when the coach told him,” Good job, keep up the hard work.”

            Which was why, when Tobio, Oikawa’s biggest rival, after Ushijima, asked him to help him with his jump serves, he had to pause and stare at his kouhai for a moment. _Help_ him? Give away his greatest weapon to someone like Tobio, a genius like him who was better than everyone so _naturally_? Over his dead body.

            He hadn’t realized, through the haze of red anger, that he had reached out to strike Oikawa, until Iwaizumi’s hand had stopped him, clutching his risk painfully. Iwa-chan’s eyes flashed, and he dismissed Tobio quickly, leaving Oikawa with just enough time to think: _Shit_.

            He had expected Iwa-chan to be furious- which was terrifying in itself, regardless of whether it was for Oikawa’s own good or not- but he didn’t expect him to ram Oikawa’s nose so hard that he would start bleeding.

            It hurt like hell, and he stumbled down onto the floor, eyes widened in shock and warm liquid trickling down his lips. This all paled, though, when Iwa-chan started yelling.

            “I’m tired of all this I, I- stuff! It’s annoying!”

            “The team with the better _six_ are stronger, you dumbass!”

            Iwa-chan didn’t have the natural ability to fabricate emotions like Oikawa had developed, and he told everything straight to the point. He didn’t sound particularly inspiring- maybe the pain was causing some delirium and affecting his brain chemistry- but suddenly, Oikawa felt like a brilliant energy was seeping through his bones.

            He stood up and dusted himself off, while Iwa-chan glared at him with his dark eyes. Oikawa, even though he felt like he could fly, was not a complete fool, so he took a step back to placate Iwaizumi.

            “Why are you smiling? Did I hit you that hard?” Iwa-chan scoffed, which only slightly covered up the tone of concern that he had.

            Oikawa smirked, and glanced towards the court, taking a deep breath. He could hardly explain himself, but he knew that behind the yelling and harsh words, Iwa-chan meant only one thing: _You are not alone._

            “I suddenly feel invincible,” Oikawa announced.

            Iwa-chan gave him a look, one that Oikawa knew meant “ _I have no idea why you are acting this way, but it isn’t a bad thing so I’m going to go with it”._ (That look made Oikawa feel a bit better, since the threat of being hit again had reduced dramatically.)

            “Come on,” Iwa-chan grumbled,” Let’s clean up.”

_I’m holding on_

_Why is everything so heavy?_

_I’m holding on_

_So much more than I can carry_

            With his clearer head, Oikawa went on to win the prefecture’s award for Best Setter; an honour that he embraced with all his pride. Iwa-chan commented that he had smiled his rare smile, with no ulterior motive. Oikawa retorted,” My smile is always straight forward and pure!” with dramatized offense.  (Iwa-chan was right, as always. He was always right about Oikawa.)

            He no longer fretted over Tobio; at least, it was a worry that was pushed to the back of his mind, for now. There were more important things that plagued him with worry, anyways. It was time that the third-years decided where they would go for high school.

            Oikawa wanted to attend the very best school that could boost his volleyball career. His parents, too, pushed him to apply to the best schools, even if they were a little more concerned about the education and location of his school.

            As expected by everyone, on top of his own wants and desires, he had received several offers from _private schools_ in Miyagi. That was something that Oikawa had never considered, in terms of high school and volleyball. He played to be the best, not to please scouts from the fancy schools that could boost his volleyball to unimaginable heights.

            The one that stood out to him, though, apart from all the rest (and he had received quite a few) was from Shiratorizawa Academy. He had never, ever considered Shiratorizawa as an option; he knew that Ushijima, who played for their middle school team, would be playing in their high school volleyball team, for sure, and so Oikawa never really considered it, until now.

            Shiratorizawa was a good school. His parents wanted him to go there; all his tuition would be payed off, if he went there. He would receive the best education, and the chances of him being able to go to nationals was very, _very_ high. If he could adjust himself to Ushiima (and he knew that he _could_ ), he would become unstoppable.  

            But there was something stopping him. Something other than his rivalry with Ushijima, which he knew that he could put aside in order to go to a school with a volleyball team ranked in the top eight of the country. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

            It felt like some form of twisted fate when he bumped into his fated rival, not even a week after receiving the offer. They quite literally _bumped_ into each other- Oikawa barely stopped himself from falling painfully onto the concrete outside the small store.

            “Oikawa,” Ushijima grunted with his usual monotonous voice. It irked at Oikawa on the best of days, and it irked at him that day.

            “Ushiwaka,” Oikawa tossed back in a cold tone, so unlike his usual upbeat (if a little artificial) banter.

            “I heard that you received an offer to play for Shiratorizawa,” Ushijima said. Straight to the point, as always. Oikawa fully knew that he wasn’t even trying to seem rude- that was just how Ushijima was.

            “So?” Oikawa snapped. He let out a small, mirthless laugh. “Come to scare me of, eh? Worried that I’ll ruin it for you if I go?”

            “On the contrary, I was going to persuade you to come there.” Ushijima raised an eyebrow, which felt like a challenge to Oikawa. “Shiratorizawa is the best in the prefecture.”

            “I know that,” Oikawa snipped at him. “I’m perfectly _aware_ of your abilities.”

            “They you’ll know that we are the best team,” Ushijima stated. “We can help you grow as a setter. You are the best setter in the prefecture. You’d help us immensely.”

            “What if I don’t want to go there?” Oikawa hissed. “What if I want to beat you?”

            Ushijima’s stare was unnerving. “You won’t. Your team was weak, last time you played against me. That’s why you always lose.”

            “Ex _cuse_ me?” Oikawa snarled, but Ushijima steam-rollered ahead.

            “You need the best team to play to your full abilities. Kitagawa Daiichi could not do that for you. Your attachments to your friends- like that Iwaizumi-kun- will be your downfall.”

            “Do not,” Oikawa raised his voice hotly,” Say a word against Iwa-chan. You will never understand my loyalty to my team. They are strong.” Oikawa pointed at Ushijima furiously. “I will beat you, Ushijima. With my own team. Mark my words.”

            “Your pride is worthless,” Ushijima said.

            “Let it be,” Oikawa spat, and he pushed past Ushijima with so much force that the latter actually stumbled. He felt like those cartoon characters, with steam coming out of his ears- that’s how angry he was. How dare Ushijima come up to him and begin insulting him? His _team_? Was that how Ushijima _convinced_ someone to _join_ him?

            He gripped the plastic bag in his hand tighter and stormed off, feeling his ears burn with a hot rage. He hated Ushijima. _Hated_ him. Oikawa tried to be a nice person, he genuinely did, but the nerve of Ushijima was incredible.

            In his haze of anger, he found himself (like he always did, when his insides were burning up) on Iwa-chan’s porch, hand poised to knock. They hadn’t truly discussed where they would be going after middle school; Oikawa suspected that they had both been skirting around the topic, not wanting to hear that they would be going separate ways. Plus, Oikawa thought, it had only been a few days since they had been notified of their acceptances.

            Iwa-chan’s mother opened up the door and smiled a familiar smile, sending him to Iwa-chan’s room. He only tapped on the door as a warning before bursting in, not bothering to wait for a response.

            Iwa-chan was laying on his bed with a textbook spread open in front of him, obviously studying. He flashed Oikawa a glance as Oikawa strutted into the room and threw himself down onto Iwa-chan’s bed.

            “Why’re you here?” Iwa-chan asked, fixing him with a piercing look. His hand was poised above the page of the textbook- science, from what Oikawa could see- and he was gazing at Oikawa expectantly.

            “Why, Iwa-chan, can’t a guy just visit his best friend with no ulterior motive?” Oikawa replied with false cheer and a smile far to stretched and shiny to be real. He knew that he was being intentionally fake and obnoxious; right now, he wasn’t trying to hide any emotions, but he was attempting to gather the courage to ask some important questions and he was pushing for time.

            “When have you ever done anything without an ulterior motive?” Iwa-chan retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t have all day, you know. What is it?”

            “Don’t study too hard, Iwa-chan, you’ll hurt yourself,” Oikawa said lightly, in a sing-song voice.

            “Shittykawa-“

            “Where are you going for high school?” Oikawa interrupted, looking away and feelings his hands twist involuntarily, not unlike the feeling twisting through his insides. He heard Iwa-chan shift a bit to his side, and clenched his jaw.

            “I’m not sure, yet,” Iwa-chan responded, carefully, like he was weighing every word. “Why does it matter? I’m sure that you’ve gotten a bunch of invitations from high schools for volleyball.”

            Oikawa gave him a shrug, glancing down at his feet. He wasn’t going to tell Iwa-chan that he had the chance to go to Shiratorizawa, not yet- no matter how much he knew that Iwa-chan wanted to beat them, he would want Oikawa to go to the place that would push him as high as possible.

            “Just tell me where you might go,” Oikawa pleaded, pouting at Iwa-chan. “I’m curious! It’s hard decision, you know.”

            “Well,” Iwa-chan started, in that same slow tone, that was starting to worry Oikawa, just a little bit. “There were a few…I didn’t really find any of them special. Um.” He fidgeted with his fingers. “I was thinking- maybe Aoba Johsai?”

            Oikawa could recall that name. It was sitting in the stack of acceptance letters on his desk, underneath the bold, pink characters that spelt “Shiratorizawa”. They were a known powerhouse school- they almost always made it to the top four in the prefecture. Iwa-chan would be a good fit there.

            “I got in there, too!” Oikawa chimed. “They’re a good school, aren’t they?”

            “Yeah, they are,” Iwa-chan replied, but he was frowning perplexedly, which made Oikawa’s gut twist with worry and confusion. “Um…I wanted to ask you, though…” He scratched the back of his neck in a sort of awkwardness that was so rarely seen on Iwa-chan, which was kind of endearing but also just heightened Oikawa’s nervousness. “Did you get into Shiratorizawa?”

            Oh. Oikawa didn’t know what he was supposed to say. If he said “yes”, he knew that Iwa-chan would push him to go. He wasn’t going, he knew that much from his earlier conversation with Ushijima. Really, now that he knew that Iwa-chan was likely going to Seijoh, there was only one choice for him.

            “Nah,” he lied easily, only making him feel a slight tug of guilt,” I bet Ushijima wouldn’t have allowed it.”

            Iwa-chan sighed, which was unexpected. Oikawa didn’t know whether it was disappointment or relief (he didn’t know which he preferred). “You should have. They would take you to nationals.”

            “Oh, well,” Oikawa said cheerfully. “No sense dwelling in that. Looks like I’ll be going to Aoba Johsai with you, then, Iwa-chan!”

            Clearly he was acting too happy for Iwa-chan not to quirk his eyebrow in suspicion, but Iwa-chan didn’t press him. He was glad for that, because Iwa-chan would never understand why Oikawa was following him to Seijoh. (Iwa-chan was selfless that way).    

_I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down_

_If I just let go, I’d be set free_

_Holding on_

_Why is everything so heavy?_

            They didn’t beat Shiratorizawa in their first year.

            They didn’t beat Shiratorizawa in their second year, either.

            Yet, Oikawa was blooming. If he had thought that he did well with his team in Kitagawa Daiichi, he was (almost) unstoppable at Seijoh. He was their star setter, with his clever tosses that catered perfectly to his spikers, timely dumps and spikes, and of course, his virtually undefeatable jump serves.

            He and Iwa-chan met two others on the team that were in their grade- Hanamaki Takahiro and Matsukawa Issei. The four of them quickly became a tight knit group of friends, and Oikawa could comfortably say that he had never been better.

            And then his third year of high school was approaching him- it was upon him so fast, he could barely breath- and he had one chance to go to nationals, one chance, and Tobio-chan was now at Karasuno (Karasuno, the school of the flightless crows) and Oikawa could feel the pressure and anxiety creep up on him like a stealthy nightmare.

            If he thought middle school was bad, having to compete with Tobio, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. When he not only had his last chance to face Ushijima and go to nationals, he had to worry about Tobio, too. Of course, his kouhai still had a lot of issues that needed to be worked on (if the rumors were true), and Karasuno hadn’t been a strong school in ages, but…still.

            He fell back into his old habits, so to speak. Training past his breaking point, closing that part of his emotions off so that they swirled into a thick, ugly void for only him to see. He brushed off the others’ concern, telling them that he was fine, except he really couldn’t fool himself into thinking that he was.

            Beating Tobio _and_ Ushijima would be worth it, though. He wasn’t going to push himself until he was so injured that he couldn’t play anymore- even he wasn’t _that_ reckless. He’d push himself enough to beat them.

            When he practiced his serves after practice ended, he started feeling his knee twinge with that same pain that took him back to his middle school years. He had to ignore it. The worst part, by far, was that he couldn’t talk about it to anyone, not even Iwa-chan, because he _knew_ what they would say. _Don’t overwork yourself, take care of yourself, don’t worry yourself_.

            He wasn’t overworking himself. He did try to take care of himself- he would ask his mother for the soothing cream, pretending that his shoulder was aching, and use it to dull the throbbing in his knee- and as for the worrying, well, there was nothing that he could do about that.

            It was consuming him. He was learning to separate his messy emotions from his rational thought, and that was the only thing stopping him from going over the edge. (He was toeing the line.)

            And then they were at afternoon practice, playing a three on three game, and he was jumping up to serve- he felt like he was flying, even if his jump was a bit shaky- and then in that same instant, he was coming down, about to land…

            He landed on the side of his right foot, which wouldn’t have been a problem, except his knee rolled, just slightly, and then suddenly pure _pain_ was shooting up and down his leg, and he let out an involuntary cry.

            “Oikawa-senpai!” came a call from Kindaichi, who was closest to him, as Oikawa crumpled to the floor in a haze. He could hear footsteps, and then Kindaichi was kneeling next to him as he lay on the floor, as his knee screamed-

            “Oikawa!” Iwa-chan’s voice rang out near him, and then he felt Iwa-chan put an arm under his arms to support him.

            Oikawa could only gasp. “Iwa-chan…fuck, it hurts,” he groaned, turning to push his sweaty head into Iwa-chan’s shoulders, seeking comfort. He could hear flurries of movement all around him, the coach calling an ambulance and his teammates’ voices heavy with concern.

            He could only cling to Iwa-chan and clench his teeth, feeling his eyes well up and telling himself that he would not _cry_. Because this was his fault, his irresponsibility had caused his, so he would not make everyone- not make _Iwa-chan_ \- more upset by crying.

            He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before two strangers came and separated him from Iwa-chan, and escorted him into the cold ambulance. Oikawa laid on the cot and clenched his fists and jaw, and glared up at the sterile, white room.

            Everything felt blurred at the hospital- the only thing he could concentrate on was his pain and his scrambled thoughts of how screwed he was, how his mom and Iwa-chan would kill him. He remembered being taken to a room, being asked extensive questions, and X-rays, multiple cold instruments prodding him.

            Halfway through, his mom burst into the room, and the doctor let her sit to the side, teary-eyed, as long as she didn’t disturb them. He was given pain medications, and they spread something on his knee, and then they gave him their final verdict.

            The doctor went on about some medical terms- ligaments and tendons and other things that Oikawa didn’t fully comprehend- until Oikawa blurted out,” Can I still play volleyball?”

            The doctor peered at him through wired glasses. It was a long, excruciating pause before he answered. “Yes. However,” the doctor continued,” You need to rest your knee for at least three to five days, first. And it is essential that you be careful from now on, otherwise, the damage could become permanent.”

            “Also,” the doctor added,” You will need to wear a knee brace. We can prescribe you one that is affordable, but you must wear it at _all_ _times_. If not, _again_ , the damage could become permanent.”

            Oikawa felt dizzy with relief. _He could play._ His recovery time, even if it would be short, would be restless and annoying, but he could still play. The knee brace took away any plans he had to hide the severity of his injury, but as long as he could stay on his court, it would be fine.

            The doctor exchanged a few words with his mother that Oikawa didn’t bother to pay attention to, and then he left, presumably to get the knee brace that he had been talking about, leaving the two of them behind. There were a few moments of silence before Oikawa’s mother spoke up.

            “Tooru…” she started shakily, but Oikawa cut her off, shaking his head.

            “I’m sorry,” he apologized, clenching the white sheets of the hospital bed between his fingers and looking down. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

            “It’s not your fault-”

            “It is,” Oikawa interjected, glancing at her with somber eyes. “I knew that there was something wrong…I- I knew that I was pushing myself- but I kept on going. I didn’t tell anyone.”

            “Not even Hajime-kun?” she asked, with wide, trembling eyes. Her hands were pale and her fingers were intertwined on her lap, showing just how shaken she was, and that made Oikawa’s stomach clench with guilt. “Why- _Tooru_.”

            “Not even Iwa-chan,” Oikawa repeated softly. He could feel worry swimming inside of him- what would Iwa-chan think of him now? He fucked himself up, and now he couldn’t play for five days. Even though he knew, logically, that it wouldn’t throw the team off too much, he couldn’t stop the growing unease; he had become so used to the constant practicing…

            “We’re going to talk about this more, Tooru,” his mother said, gazing at him sadly. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should have paid more attention to you.” When Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, she spoke over him. “I know that you don’t want me to blame myself. But we need to talk, later. Do you…do you want to see Hajime-kun?”

            “He’s here?” Oikawa asked, startled. Really, he didn’t know why he was so surprised, because of course Iwa-chan would take the time out of his day to visit Oikawa. Still, he hadn’t been prepared to face him so soon.

            Oikawa’s mother nodded. “He arrived ages ago…he was so worried, Tooru. He still doesn’t know if you’ll be okay…I think you should talk to him.”

            Oikawa felt his mouth dry, and couldn’t find it in himself to speak, so he just nodded. His mother stood up from the small chair and gave him a nervous smile, and then walked across the room to fetch Iwa-chan.

            It was a few minutes before she came back, with Iwa-chan in tow. Oikawa’s mother paused at the door, letting Iwa-chan walk in, and then she backed out quietly.

            Oikawa threw her a wide-eyed look. He had been expecting her to stay- why would she be leaving? Did she feel the need to give Iwa-chan and him some privacy? He glanced at Iwa-chan, whose face right now was tight and rigid, and realized that maybe their conversation _was_ going to be too private for his mother.

            “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa greeted in a fairly steady voice. He shrunk back into the pillow a bit, under the force of Iwa-chan’s gaze.

            “Oikawa,” Iwa-chan started, after pulling up a chair by the bed. Like this, Oikawa felt like a patient with some terminal disease, and Iwa-chan was his grieving family. It was a scenario that brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

            “Are you… fuck, are you okay?” Iwa-chan asked, rubbing over his face and slumping into the chair. He didn’t meet look Oikawa in the face.

            “Yea,” Oikawa replied, in a small voice that he absolutely hated. (It was okay, though, because this was Iwa-chan, and Iwa-chan was allowed to hear that voice). “They’re going to make me wear a brace.” There was no point in beating around the bush, after all. Not at this point.

            There was a pause, and then Iwa-chan put his hand down and his eyes, green and gray and full of pure worry for Oikawa, trapped Oikawa down, that one gaze that ensured that Oikawa wouldn’t lie to him or bullshit him. “Will…will you be okay?”

            Oikawa could decipher the hidden meaning of the message. _How are you feeling right now? How much did this affect you? Will you still be able to play? Will you keep doing what you love?_

Oikawa gulped, and for the first time, a smile played on his lips. “I can still play volleyball,” he answered, and he could see Iwa-chan visibly relax. Not because Oikawa playing volleyball was his primary concern, but because he knew that Oikawa playing volleyball was Oikawa’s primary concern.            

            “And,” Iwa-chan continued, licking his lips, and that’s when Oikawa’s heart dropped and he could feel the mood shift. “I don’t- how did this happen, Oikawa? I thought- or I didn’t think- that you were better, after middle school-“

            “I was, I swear I was, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa answered hastily, pushing himself up to face Iwa-chan.            

            “Then what _happened_?” Iwa-chan asked faintly. “I know you were stressed, but why- why’d you push yourself so much?”

            Oikawa fiddled with the bedsheet, and shrugged. “I don’t want to be surpassed by Tobio-chan,” he murmured finally,” I don’t know how good he is, but I know that he’s good. And then, it’s our last year to defeat Ushijima…”

            Iwa-chan sighed, sinking back, once more, into his chair. His eyes were closed and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. Oikawa felt his heart twist with guilt, because he was the reason that Iwa-chan was looking like that.

            “Iwa-chan…” Oikawa asked, with uncertainty in his voice. “Are you mad at me?”

            Iwa-chan moved so fast that Oikawa could hardly register it with his eyes. “No! Of course not, I-” Iwa-chan sighed. “I should have known. I should have stopped you, before this happened.”

            Oikawa gaped at him. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to know, I knew you would worry.”

            “And I have a good reason to be worried,” Iwa-chan snapped,” I wasn’t worried enough, and now look what’s happened!” Iwa-chan turned his head abruptly, and took in a long, shaky breath.

            Oikawa’s heart stuttered sickeningly. He reached out as far as he could- in an act of recklessness- and found Iwa-chan’s hand, pulling it towards him and running his thumb along the calloused fingertips. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”     

            Iwa-chan was shaking his head, rapidly, and he said, in a low, fierce hiss,” _Never_ scare me like that again.”

            “I won’t,” Oikawa assured, giving his hand a squeeze, and then dropping it as warmth bloomed on his own face. _Don’t make it weird,_ he told himself. “I promise, Iwa-chan.”

_You say that I’m paranoid_

_But I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me_

_It’s not like I made the choice_

_To let my mind stay so fucking messy_

            His coach and teammates took the injury better than he had ever expected them to. Rest, take care of yourself, they told him, but they also reminded him that he would still be their captain, still be their star setter, when he came back from his recovery time.

            The entire time, he was confined to his house; he knew that it was because his mother didn’t fully trust him to not do something stupid, and she wanted to keep him under her watchful eye.

            He wished that he could have basked in her doting nature. After all, she brought him everything he needed- probably in an effort to keep him happy. She’d bought so much milk bread that it would last him at least a week before starting to spoil.

            He was scared.

            He was restless.

            Maybe blowing out his knee helped bring him to his senses, but it didn’t stop the anxiety crawling up his throat. Tobio-chan and Ushijima were still _out there_ and he was sitting at home with his knee wrapped up, not practicing, not helping his team, not staying in shape-

            Then Iwa-chan would be knocking at his door, fresh back from practice, sweat sheening over his body and hair damp with moisture (not that Oikawa noticed, or anything), and he would remind Oikawa that there was time, that there was hope.

            The day that they came back from the hospital, Oikawa fiddled with his shirt, and hesitantly asked if Iwa-chan would stay with him. Iwa-chan, of course, agreed.

            Iwa-chan didn’t dote like Oikawa’s mother did, but he had his own way of caring that made Oikawa’s heart flutter with tenderness. He’d grump at Oikawa to take it easy and ask for help with difficult tasks, and he was always, always there, ready to steady Oikawa if he limped to much or had trouble moving around.

            Oikawa would flash a plastic smile at him and say “You’re too concerned, Iwa-chan!” but really, he was so grateful to have Iwa-chan in his life. (And Iwa-chan knew this. Iwa-chan could always see through his plastic smiles.)

            They set up the spare futon in Oikawa’s bedroom, close enough so that they could have hushed conversations with each other. Under the cover of darkness, even their most mundane nighttime conversations seemed infinitely more intimate, and Oikawa clung onto them as much as he could.

            Eventually, they both drifted off to sleep, Iwa-chan first, and then Oikawa, when the thoughts racing in his head finally began to untangle and Iwa-chan’s steady breathing set a rhythm that lulled him to sleep.

            He woke up in cold sweat that night, from flashing dreams of cheering crowds and crows, gasping as he covered his face with his hands. Iwa-chan was awake in a second, by his side, strong hands rubbing soothing circles into his back.

            They laid back down, together, with Iwa-chan still touching him; his fingers rested, feather light, on Oikawa’s arm, just enough to ground him, just to remind him that _he was there_. (They fell asleep like that, and when they woke up, Oikawa’s hand grasped loosely at Iwa-chan’s wrist, and he could almost forget his worries for a moment.)

            (Iwa-chan stayed the next night, too.)

            The five days inched by with the speed of a snail on sleeping medication, but somehow, Oikawa tolerated them. His sleep, by the fourth night, grew less fitful. He stopped starting awake in the middle of the night, and started waking up aching for more sleep, instead.

            Improvements were improvements.

            And then, on the fifth day, Iwa-chan came to break the news to him: Seijoh had requested a practice match with Karasuno High.

            Oikawa backed up a little, eyes wide. “Are you joking?”

            “No,” Iwa-chan shot back, obviously uncomfortable. “The coach wanted it- he said that he’d heard about some new talent there, and wanted to see what they were made of. They’re coming tomorrow.”

            Oikawa didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I have my appointment tomorrow. They’re going to check my knee.”

            Iwa-chan shrugged and rubbed his arms. “I tried to talk to Coach, but he said that he wanted to give us as much as time as possible to prepare. But..” Iwa-chan looked at him steadily. “You aren’t upset, are you?”

            There was a glint in Oikawa’s eyes, when he looked up again, and he smirked. “Upset? Of course not! I can see what my adversary is made of.” Oikawa looked Iwa-chan dead in the eye, grasping his shoulders for a theatrical effect. “Tell Coach to expect me, at the practice math. I’ll be late, probably, but I’ll be there.”

            Oikawa wasn’t a genius, but he certainly wasn’t foolish enough to miss a chance to see _the_ genius setter in action, with his new team (even if said setter has some issues with connecting with his team). He was going to study Tobio-chan.

            And he was going to bring him down.        

_I know I'm not the center of the universe_

_  
But you keep spinning 'round me just the same_

_  
I know I'm not the center of the universe_

_  
But you keep spinning 'round me just the same_

            Iwa-chan cared deeply about Oikawa, which meant that Iwa-chan took care of Oikawa, to the point where sometimes, people wouldn’t understand why he would bother. But he always did.

            It was like a fact of nature. Birds had feathers, wings, and beaks. Speed could be measured by a formula of distance over time. Glucose was the product of a photosynthesis reaction involving six molecules of carbon dioxide and six molecules of water. Iwaizumi Hajime supported and cared about Oikawa Tooru, probably more than he cared about himself.

            (Oikawa was unsure about lots of things, but he was never unsure about this. Their bond was too strong to doubt- no one even bothered to suspect that Oikawa Tooru didn’t mean the world to Iwa-chan.)

            At this point, it was second nature to Iwa-chan. He never asked for any care in return- Oikawa marveled at how he was so effortlessly calm and collected, strong even in the face of Oikawa’s worst breakdowns. The only time Oikawa had seen him close to tears, since they were little kids, was when Iwa-chan confessed that he blamed himself for Oikawa’s injury.

            And so, it was a surprise to everyone, really, when it was Iwa-chan who cried, after their loss against Karasuno.

            Moments after the loss, Oikawa found himself surprisingly calm. Yes, on one hand, his emotions were pummeling him- he’d lost, he’d never make it to nationals, he’d never beat Ushijima- but on another hand, he thought, _Well, I played to the best of my abilities. My team played to the best of their abilities. Karasuno was simply stronger. As a team._

His teammates, they did not see it that way. They blamed themselves- to an extent, Oikawa blamed himself too, for not being able to catch that last _damn_ _ball_ \- but right now, he needed to be there was his team.

            Tears were rolling off Matsukawa’s face, and after one glance at that sight, Hanamaki had turned away, his own eyes overflowing with emotion, teeth clenched painfully tight.

            And Iwa-chan, well Iwa-chan had bent over, shoulders shaking, and Oikawa felt like someone had taken a thin knife and was slowly, slowly impaling him with it. As they walked to the stands to thank their supporters, Oikawa clapped Iwa-chan on the back, firmly, reassuringly, hoping to send the message loud and clear. _Be strong. I know you can._

It was a temporary fix, at least. Iwa-chan was able to put on a brave face (and Oikawa knew it was a brave face) all the way, until they reached his darkened bedroom (Oikawa followed him home. He wasn’t letting Iwa-chan stay alone, not after this).

            As Iwa-chan began putting his things away, as they both changed clothes in silence, tears began to fall, and Iwa-chan would breathe deeply and make a futile attempt at wiping them away angrily.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, almost inaudible, not looking at Oikawa. His knuckles were white on the shirt that he was gripping, and his expression was agonized.

            “Why?” Oikawa asked, allowing concern to filter into his voice. Iwa-chan deserved concern, especially now, of all times.

            “I failed you,” Iwa-chan replied, and his voice was so certain, so lacking in hesitation, that it made Oikawa feel sick. How could Iwa-chan, his ace, his partner, think that he had failed Oikawa? He’d done quite the opposite.

            “It’s my fault,” Iwa-chan continued, while Oikawa was still struggling to find words. “There were so many…opportunities, I could have taken- I should have done something. It’s my fault that you can’t beat Ushijima. The setter can be as perfect as they can possibly be, and what good is that if the spiker can’t be just as good?”

            “I’m a shitty ace. So, I’m sorry.”

            At those words, Oikawa was speeding off the bed, and he materialized in front of Iwa-chan so quickly that Iwa-chan looked startled. He put his hands on Iwa-chan’s sturdy shoulders and gripped them tight, forcing Iwa-chan to acknowledge him.

            “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, in a soft voice reserved for the rarest moments. “Iwa-chan, you’re amazing. You’re everything that a setter could ask for. You’re everything that I could ask for. You were amazing out there, and you should never, _ever_ think otherwise.”

            Almost subconsciously, Oikawa moved one hand up to cup Iwa-chan’s face (something he would never dare to do at another time), and used his thumb to brush away the stray, glistening tears that littered Iwa-chan’s face. His heart thrummed when he saw how Iwa-chan leaned into the touch, obviously needing that comfort and being too self-deprecating to ask for it.

            “Let’s go to bed,” Oikawa murmured, tugging Iwa-chan along with him. They moved backwards, slowly, until Oikawa’s legs hit the bedframe and he tugged Iwa-chan down with himself onto the mattress. “You need to rest.”

            “You too, dumbass,” Iwa-chan replied in a hoarse voice. The insult shouldn’t have made Oikawa smile, but he did, regardless, because all it meant was that Iwa-chan was feeling better enough to insult.

            Unlike when Oikawa got his knee injury, they didn’t fall asleep slowly, after a long conversation- instead, merely moments after hitting the bed, Oikawa felt sleep tug on his eyelids, and they both passed out within minutes, limbs tired and sore from hard work, minds weary and done with the emotions of the long, hard day.

            (They fell asleep with their fingers tangled together, and when they woke up, Iwa-chan’s hand was brushing Oikawa’s face and Oikawa’s arm was rested on Iwa-chan’s chest, and it was so comfortable that it made Oikawa want to shed a few tears, himself.)

            They were subdued, the next morning. Nobody expected them to be anything less- going to school the next day, knowing that there would be no need to go for volleyball practice, hurt in a way that Oikawa couldn’t even describe.

            They went to practice, anyways. Oikawa had to finalize who would be Seijoh’s next captain, and Iwa-chan had to be motherly and support the team, and they had to enjoy their last days being in a team alongside each other and alongside Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

            Oikawa felt that Yahaba could make an excellent captain, given some time. He had certainly managed to reign in some respect Kyouken-chan, which was a feat that nobody but Iwa-chan had even come close to. He was eager to choose Seijoh’s future…even if it meant that he would be leaving his beloved high school.

              They were still a team, after all. That bond wouldn’t be broken, no matter if the third-years were leaving, no matter if they were all going separate ways.

            They were a team.

_Holding on_

_Why is everything so heavy?_

_Holding on_

_So much more than I can carry_

_I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down_

_If I just let go I’d be set free_

_Holding on_

_Why is everything so heavy?_

            Oikawa didn’t bother with trying not to cry, during graduation. His eyes started to burn with emotion during the closing speech, and he let the tears run freely. He wasn’t the only one, obviously. Hanamaki was nearly sobbing, lips pressed into a watery smile, and as soon as everyone began getting up, he sought out Matsukawa, and they spent a good two minutes talking in private with their arms gripping each other tightly. (They were lucky, at least. They were going to the same university, after weeks of angsting and worrying about being separated.)

            Even Iwa-chan got watery eyed, though he did his absolute best to hide it from their classmates. Oikawa caught him wiping at his eyes, and flashed a smile at him, which made Iwa-chan punch Oikawa in the arm.

            “Dumbass,” Iwa-chan said, with no real bite, and Oikawa got him to crack a smile, so who was the real winner here? (The answer was Oikawa.)

            Oikawa’s tears were lots of things. They were his happiness- so happy, that he had come this far, and he had grown so much, and now he was going to _college_ to become an adult. A lot of them were his sadness, for having to leave his friends, for having to separate with his team. (Not that Yahaba wasn’t going to be a a great captain. He was.)

            They were his fears, that he wasn’t going to be able to stay friends with them. That he would be so busy with his university volleyball and studies that he was going to lose touch with them. His fear that Iwa-chan and he would get so caught up in their own lives, they wouldn’t have time for each other.

            “Are you going to be living in the dorms?” he asked Iwa-chan, later that afternoon. He had considered it, himself, but he didn’t think that he wanted to be cooped up in a tiny room with a random stranger. He’d asked his mother about renting an apartment close to the university, and she seemed all for it, provided that he have a roommate.

            He would have no idea where to start looking for a roommate. Except Iwa-chan and his were both going to college in Tokyo, and the universities were only twenty minutes away from each other, and he had already seen some apartments that could house two people.

            Oikawa hoped that he wasn’t getting ahead of himself.

            “I don’t know,” Iwa-chan responded, fiddling with the bedsheets that they were lounging on. “I haven’t thought too much about it.” He snorted derisively. “Guess I should, shouldn’t I? We’ll be heading for Tokyo in a few months.”

           There was a slight pause, and then- “Come live with me!” Oikawa blurted out, with no prelude or forethought. He cursed himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth- what if Iwa-chan didn’t want to? What if Iwa-chan would rather have a college experience different from his childhood, where Oikawa was always there, stuck to his side-

            “Live with you?” Iwa-chan asked, voice lilted with disbelief. “You want _me_ to live with you?”

            Oikawa cringed away, and looked down to his lap. “You don’t have to,” he mumbled,” It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just thought that maybe if you didn’t have any other plans, you would want to-”

            “No, I just,” Iwa-chan interjected,” I didn’t think that you’d want to.”

            Oikawa looked back up and frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

            Iwa-chan shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable, and glanced away. “I don’t know. I thought you’d want to experience something new. New people. ”

            “I do,” Oikawa stressed,” We’re both moving to Tokyo. Why can't we do it together?”

            Oikawa pretended not to see the small, purely happy smile that spread across Iwa-chan’s face at his words (and pretended that butterflies hadn’t erupted at that gesture, what the fuck). When Iwa-chan nodded, he grinned, and sang out,” We better go house hunting, then, Iwa-chan!”

            Iwa-chan just growled at him and threw a pillow at his face, but nevertheless, the queasy feeling that rose in Oikawa’s stomach at the thought of splitting into separate universities lessened drastically, and that was all the mattered to him.

            They found an apartment fairly quickly, a small two bedroom with a tiny kitchen that Oikawa was forbidden from using. They stocked it with cheap furniture and Oikawa insisted on putting a framed picture of the two of them from graduation on his dressed. (Whenever Iwa-chan came into his room, he seemed unusually flustered over the picture, and Oikawa thought it was _so cute_.)

            They had always been the biggest part of each other’s lives, but this…was different somehow. It was different, waking up to Iwa-chan groggily make coffee in the morning, or seeing him study with that furrowed concentration. It was a new kind of familiarity between, when they had thought that they couldn’t possibly get closer.

            Iwa-chan learned about Oikawa’s tendency to shower right before bed, and the way he liked to sing loudly to pop songs while he was in there. Oikawa learned that Iwa-chan liked his coffee sweeter than Oikawa’s, with three teaspoons of sugar instead of two like Oikawa had originally thought.

            (Eventually, they learned how it felt to slide into bed with each other, holding the other tight and warm and close, when they were feeling down, or when they just felt like it. They learned how it felt to stare at the other when the morning sun fell across their faces in a soft light.)

_I know I’m not the center of the universe_

_But you keep spinning round me just the same_

_I know I’m not the center of the universe_

_But you keep spinning round me just the same_

_And I drive myself crazy_

_Thinking everything’s about me_

_  
_             Oikawa still set his goals high. He’d study all night long for his tests, working his way up to being his professors’ favorite student.

            He practiced so hard for his college volleyball team. He became a starter in his first year itself, and that year, he pulled his team to nationals, where he faced, like a bad twist in fate, Ushijima, at the first match. (Oikawa lost.)

            (He had four more years, he told himself. He would make it. He would make it.)

            He still had days where his anxiety would spiral into a rapid heartrate and constricted breathing. He still had days where Ushijima (and even that damn Tobio-chan) infuriated him, and he ranted to a long-suffering Iwa-chan for hours.

            He felt like screaming when he visited Miyagi and went to watch the Spring High Semi-finals, and Karasuno took two out three sets from Seijoh, with their freak quick that had only managed to become better.

            His life was far from perfect. College was hard, and he longed for the days when he complained about how much homework his high school teachers gave him.

            And still, there were days where Oikawa felt like he could fly. Those were the days when his team perfected a difficult play, when he received full marks on a particularly difficult test.

            There were still the small things that made Oikawa’s life so good- the tiny shops that sold delicacies and specialty products that Oikawa reveled in, the long calls and short visits from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, the small smile that Iwa-chan seemed to reserve only for him, when he was tired and not pretending to be a grouch.

            After a particularly bad anxiety attack that Oikawa couldn’t hide, Iwa-chan dragged him to a psychiatrist, an even-tempered older woman who spoke to him and eventually gave him two things-  a prescription and a list of good therapists in their part of Tokyo. He could unload his worries on a perfectly neutral professional, who patiently helped analyze his own feelings, separating them from their tangled chaos into something that he could deal with.

            Slowly, slowly, Oikawa could feel the pressure in his mind and shoulders get lighter. He still stressed out a lot, of course he did, but it was less than before, and the difference made him want to cry.

            And on the days when his mind was acting up, when his stomach felt tumultuous with uncertainty and fear, he could hold Iwa-chan close, indulge himself with Iwa-chan’s lips and words and body.

            (He could do that whenever he wanted, and that was something that brought him more joy than the rest of the universe could even hope to offer him.)

              Oikawa Tooru couldn’t be perfect. He struggled with Calculus and panicked and got jealous of his boyfriend a bit too easily. (Iwa-chan said it was cute, which only made Oikawa pout.)

            But Oikawa Tooru was happy, and he was learning to work with himself, and his future lay in front of him with volleyball, charisma, friends, and his amazing significant other.

            Sometimes thing would get too heavy for him to carry.

            But he could pick himself up, and he was learning to share the burden, and he would be okay.

            He would be amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it, please comment! I would love to hear feedback! (pls guys i need to hear from u)
> 
> (also, if you strike the fancy, you can look for me on tumblr at ka-gay-a-ma.tumblr.com)


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